Sticks and Stones
by Phoenixian
Summary: Jules' holiday plans are put on hold when an old friend comes back into her life with gun in hand, and it's up to Jules and the team to unravel a mystery and a murder that has defined her past and brought her to the present.
1. Jules Callaghan

Welcome to my new flashpoint fic. Do enjoy as much as I will enjoy reading your reviews.

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"Spike, tell me what your seeing. Your my eyes here."

"Right boss. Subject is still moving a lot, she seems jumpy, waving the gun around, there's no way we go in there without setting her off, too risky."

"And the hostages?"

"Looks pretty quiet. They seem to know not to provoke her, I think they'll be okay if we can talk her out of this one."

"Any sign she's not alone?"

"No, sir."

"Alright Spike. I'm gonna try calling again. I hope for her sake she picks up this time. Bravo team in position?"

His headset crackled. "Yes, sir" Sam said, sounding a little too cheerful given the situation.

"Don't wanna use you guys if I can help it."

"Copy."

"Ed? Wordy?"

"No solution" Ed's voice came over the connection. "She's moving around too much."

"Any idea who she is?" Greg asked.

"Not yet" came Wordy's reply. "Checking all the plates in the area but it's too much, I don't think were gonna get that lucky."

"Guess I'm going in blind."

The phone rang three times as the team held their breath in anticipation before the connection was picked up and they could hear the young woman breathing on the other end of the line.

"This is Sergeant Greg Parker with the strategic response unit. Is anybody there?"

Silence.

"I really want to get everyone out of there safe, that means you too, but I can't do that if you won't talk to me. Why don't we start with your name?"

Silence.

"I really can help you out here if you tell me what made you go into that building with a gun. We can end this together. I just want to make sure that everyone gets out alright. Can you help me with that?"

The young woman's voice surprised him, not the hard, cold sound of a killer but the soft, shaky voice of a frightened girl. "I know this won't end well for me. Even if i let everyone go I'd still go to jail." It was not a question, as if she had been thinking about it for a long time.

Greg measured his words carefully. "Maybe we could work something out if you were to cooperate with me here. What do you think?"

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" she yelled into the phone, making them all flinch as the voice came through to them.

"She's freaking out boss" Spike whispered across the headsets, eyes glued to the young woman behind the window.

"No, I don't think your an idiot" Greg hurried on. "But you haven't hurt anyone and I don't think that you want to, so this can have a happy ending."

"Don't tell me what I want!" she snapped and he was afraid that she might hang up the phone but she didn't.

"Alright" he said calmly, trying to slow her down. "You tell me what you want."

There was a long moment of silence in which he waited for her answer but what she said was the last thing in the world that he had been expecting.

"I want to talk to Jules Callaghan."

Rewind- 3 hours earlier

"Come on, answer the door Jules, I'm freezing my ass off here!"

The pounding stopped for a brief moment and Jules prayed that he had gone away. Unfortunately, the knocking resumed a minute later. With a groan and a regretful last look at her nice, warm bed she dragged herself to her feet. The cold hit her as soon as she left the comfort of her blankets and she dragged her quilt with her, wrapping it protectively around her shoulders and tripping over it as she maneuvered around a stack of paint cans in the hall. She aimed an annoyed kick at an empty can of paint thinner and followed it more slowly as it bounced down the stairs and slammed into the wall. She felt slightly more satisfied.

She didn't want to open the door, she didn't even want to look outside. Outside meant winter and snow, water running into your boots and an icy chill that twisted itself around your spine for five months of the year. She honestly couldn't blame anyone who pictured canadians living in igloos.

She turned the temperature up a notch as she passed by and finally swung the door open, grabbing hold of Ed''s arm without so much as a greeting, dragging him into the house and slamming it again, refusing to note that that there was a fresh layer of snow over her yard and her car and that it was so early it was still dark out. She leaned back against the wall and narrowed her eyes at Ed who was watching her with a glint in his eye and a smile on his face.

"Nice look" he told her.

She moved away into the kitchen and flipped the switch on her coffee machine. Just watching the warm brown liquid pouring down made her feel more alert and definitely more social.

"I'm not even gonna look at the time cause I don't want to know" she told him, crossing her arms with some difficulty due to the quilt that she still had wrapped snuggly around her.

"Didn't have much choice, I work in an hour and your out of here by noon. What's a guy to do?" He put an envelope down on the table that she hadn't noticed him holding, passed her and fished two coffee cups out of the dishwasher as the comforting smell of Jamaican blend filled the house.

"What's that?" she demanded, annoyed that her curiosity had once again gotten the best of her, and amusing Ed even more.

"Open it."

"Why?" she asked suspiciously, taking in the creepy little santa clauses that seemed to be dancing across the paper under her name.

"Come on Jules, it's your christmas present from the team, complete with holiday spirit and all that jazz. We've been saving up for that."

"Since when do we exchange gifts, ever?" she asked. He gave her a look as he added cream to his coffee. "Help yourself" she told him sarcastically.

"Don't worry about it, we all wanted to get you something, so we did."

"Is this about me getting shot? Cause that was a long time ago Ed" she said, watching his face cloud as he thought of it but he shook his head. She felt bad to even bring it up, knowing that he still blamed himself for the incident. He was the only one.

"How did you even- Would you just-"

"Fine" she gave in, throwing her hands up in surrender and letting the blanket sink to the ground. She grabbed the envelope and tore it open. Two things slipped out into her hand. First, the newest team photo, the unofficial one at least. Spike was kissing babycakes, Lou was giving Ed rabbit ears and Sam had lifted Jules onto his shoulders. Greg was watching his team with a look of bemused pride on his face. It had been taken six months ago, a week before she had been shot.

She tossed the photo to the table top and looked at the next item, a Home Depot gift card with another alarming christmas design on the front.

"Thanks Ed. Tell the others?"

"Sure thing, now use that wisely, were all sick and tired of hearing you complaining about your home renos. Anyway, I gotta get going, Spike'll be hanging tinsel on his metal girlfriend by now, need to offer Greg some moral support. Have a fun week." He clapped her on the arm and made for the doorway and then stopped. "Oh, ya, you forgot your cellphone at the station." He held out the phone. "It kinda rang last night and Lou answered it, thought it was your boyfriend..." he paused.

"I don't have a boyfriend" she told him slowly, steeling herself for the end of the story.

"Anyway, Lou says to say sorry to your dad for him. See ya."

Growling, she made to follow him, but the door slammed shut before she could reach it and she had no intention of wandering out into the winter just to learn what Lou had said to her dad. She made her way back to the kitchen to rinse out the coffee cups and pin the team photo up on the cork board over the table. She glanced at the clock. Six ten a.m.


	2. An inconvenient situation

Her regular morning routine had her out of the shower in under twenty minutes, her long hair dripping, water cooling as it wound it's way down her limbs, sending her back shivering into the main area of the house. She dressed as quickly as she could, nearly reaching for her last clean uniform before remembering that she wasn't due at the station for another week and so she turned instead to pick through her measly selection of civilian clothing. Having worked the past two weeks without a single day off due to the overrun of bank robberies and hostage situations it was strange to be able to slip into a regular pair of jeans.

She pulled them on and did them up a little too easily.

Looking in the mirror, she was now fully aware of the effect that the recent long hours had had on her. She was ghostly white with dark bags under her eyes and she had clearly lost quite a bit of weight. Her cheek bones stuck out sharply.

Pulling a face she turned away, choosing to think instead of the fabulous christmas dinner that awaited her. She had never been much for holidays. The whole religious aspect was completely lost on her and the gifts had never been a big deal, but the food was a different story. No one cooked a better meal than her dear old dad, and seeing him and her brother's again would mean plenty of food, and of course beer. Maybe it was good that she had lost weight, though she knew her dad would not be impressed with her. Greg too had been sending her odd looks in the last few weeks and he had seemed a little too happy to give her the holiday off.

She spread lotion over her dry skin and found her way to the kitchen for a third cup of coffee. She supposed that if you had to have an addiction, coffee was always better than cocaine, especially when you had a job like hers.

Jules had always hated packing and as usual she had left it to the last minute, emptying the contents of her dryer into her duffle bag, pressing a still warm t-shirt against her face before adding it to the jumble of pants, socks and underwear. She couldn't remember the last time she had folded a piece of clothing other than her work stuff.

Finishing with her packing she turned instead to her favorite past time, throwing an hour into the completion of her house. She had no idea what she would do for fun when it was finished, probably build a shed or something equally pointless, but still superior than to sitting around relaxing in the evenings. She ran a sander down the banister several times, tuning out completely until it was nearly finished.

With nothing better to do she listened to the messages on her cell phone, mostly from her father asking her what time she was getting in, one from her brother, telling her that he had news and couldn't wait to see her. And then she stood at her window staring out at the fresh falling snow. Raised a farm girl she was accustomed to snow and cold, used to getting up at five in the morning in minus thirty weather to go out and feed the horses, tripping through snow drifts that had once reached up to her waist, but that in no way meant that she liked it. She had never had a pleasant relationship with winter. Something always seemed to go wrong when it was cold out. It made people crazy, maybe it made her a little crazy too. She liked to ski and like any real canadian she was both a hockey player and fan, rooting for the toronto maple leafs despite their long losing streak but personally she thought that winter sports would be much better without the winter part of the equation.

With nothing left to keep her in the house she decided to set out early for the farm, spend a few extra hours with her family. She had to wonder what Derek's news might be, though she doubted it would affect her in anyway. She pulled on boots, gloves and her warmest jacket, bypassing the SRU wind breaker that had been more than sufficient for months but would now not been taken out again till spring, her favorite season, when everything came alive again, and best of all there was no bitter cold to deal with while she waited on a roof, no need to thaw out her sniper rifle at regular intervals. Steeling herself, she hoisted her duffel up onto her shoulder and swung through the door, hurrying to her car and throwing her bag into the trunk.

She then made her way back to the house and removed her Glock 17 from her gun safe. She always took it with her on vacation, used to having a gun around at all times. It would be nice to be somewhere where there would be no hostiles with weapons pointing in her face or anyone else's. A hundred guns within ten miles of the farm and none of them would ever be pointed at a human being. It was reassuring to know that some people could be civilized, armed or not.

She called her dad before she left the house, leaving a message, letting him know that she would be a few hours earlier than expected, double checked that she hadn't forgotten anything and that the stove and coffee machine were turned fully off, set the alarm and locked the door firmly on the way out. She loaded herself into the drivers seat, pulled away from the curb and felt her cell phone vibrating in her pocket. She slowed to a stop at a red light and fished it out, fingers crossed that there wasn't some sort of emergency at work, though she couldn't think of any reason that they would need her in particular.

"Hey dad" she said, after she had checked her caller i.d, flipped it open and answered on speaker phone, hands free.

"Morning Jules. You set out yet?" His voice was deep and calm as always, she could hear her brothers chatting in the background.

"Ya, I should be there in about four hours."

"Sounds good. Drive safe."

She hung up the phone, returning it to her pocket and turned the radio on for entertainment, louder than she usually put it, but still quieter than Ed did after a successful day. She pulled onto the highway but didn't get a chance to speed up as she was forced to slow for a traffic jamb leading up to an accident sight. She made a mental note that the roads were slippery. There was a good chance it would take her longer than expected to reach her destination. Groaning, she knocked her head against the steering wheel and turned up the heat some more.

Her phone vibrated again.

"Hey Wordy, miss me already?"

"Jules. You at home?"

"No, I'm on the high way, why?"

"I think you'd better pull a u-e, we've got a situation here."

With a sigh of resignation she backed the car up, glanced down the empty lane beside hers and pulled her car around, heading back into the city.

"Damn, I knew I should have crossed my fingers" she said into the phone.

"What?"

"Never mind, what's the situation that you need me for so desperately?"

His voice was tense. "We'll fill you in when you get here, hopefully before this gets out of hand."


	3. Mickey

Bursting through the tunnel with her lights going and her cheap imitation siren blaring she could feel the sluggishness of the morning drivers as they moved out of her way reluctantly, a few of them honking in retaliation, other less sophisticated people offering her rude hand gestures.

"I'm three blocks away" she said into her cell phone, hearing Wordy's grunt of acknowledgment on the other end as he focused on the situation . She heard the door of the van opening on the other end, the sounds of footsteps mixed in with voices in the background and then silence again as the door was slammed shut.

"Did you get a hold of Jules?" Greg asked on the end of the line, his voice faint as both phones were on speaker.

"I'm here" she said loudly, wishing for the headset that she would receive when she got to the scene. It was strange sometimes after a long day to take off the earpiece and no longer have a handful of people talking in your ear. Like the voices in your head had suddenly stopped, leaving you to your own devices.

The usual swarm of squad cars and crown vic's told her that she was in the right place even before she picked out the command post through the crowd. She was just able to muscle her own car through to the curb where she pulled in next to a familiar faded chevrolet malibu that she couldn't quite place. Sam appeared from beneath the police tape that was barely holding back the onlookers. He was loaded with an extra set of gear, with a C8 Carbine slung over his shoulder.

"Jules" he said by way of greeting.

"Sam."

She yanked her jacket off and pulled the vest over her head, no longer feeling or focusing on the cold that hung around them, their breath coming out in clouds.

She accepted the utility belt in which she stored her own glock 17 that she had retrieved from her car. Sam yanked an SRU cap down on her head, handed her the usual headgear and they set off, back through the crowd of civilians and the reporters who shot questions at them as they passed and who they both pointedly ignored, not that she would have anything to say if she could, as she had no clue what was going on or why she was needed so badly on scene. They ducked back under the tape and moved to the command post.

She had no idea what to expect as she mounted the steps into the truck to find Greg and Wordy waiting for her, expressions serious as they both fought to hide the confusion at the turn in events and their wonder as to why a subject would ask for Jules by name. She could read it in their faces because she couldn't help but wonder the same thing. And the only options that she had managed to come up with was that either the subject knew her or they wanted to kill her and it was clear by the looks the others were giving her that they too had come to the same conclusions.

"Caucasian woman, late twenty's to mid thirty's, light complexion, dark hair, dark eyes. Approximately 5'6" Spike's description came through.

Three faces stared back at her as if expecting this information to clarify everything.

"Are you kidding me, that could be anyone. Hell, you could be describing me" she exclaimed in annoyance.

"All right, just hold on" Wordy told her reassuringly, holding up a hand to keep the peace. "Were just about to gain access to the video footage. Then we'll see if you recognize her."

"How's it going in there Spike?" Greg said into the headpiece. No one wanted to shoot the young woman without first finding out who she was and what she was doing there with a gun in her hand.

"Could be worse."

"Glad to hear that."

"C'mon Wordy." Jules demanded impatiently. Greg had denied her request to speak to the woman before they found the connection and though she saw his point that there were probably a hundred people who would like to see her dead, many of whom wouldn't have minded pulling the trigger themselves she had the feeling that it wasn't the case. She was trying to bring up a memory of a young woman about her own age. Dark hair, light skin, driving a chevy. Needless to say, no one held much stock in gut feelings when every decision could mean the difference between life and death.

"Just give me another second."

"I think now would be a good time to give her another call" Spike's voice came through, sounding worried. "She's getting more and more agitated. We'd better hurry up if she wants to talk to Jules. She is not looking happy."

Jules watched as Greg picked up the phone and was patched through to the building's phone lines.

"Where are the hostages being held?" she asked Wordy in a low voice. She had seen no signs on the outside which meant that any number of business' could have been in place there.

"Um, first floor, some family services thing. Social workers and such." He glanced up from the screen. "Does that mean something to you?"

She gave him a look and turned away.

"This is Sergeant Greg Parker again."

She could hear a woman's voice muffled on the other end of the line.

"I want to help you but your going to have to tell me your name." He paused again for the response.

"Well, I've got constable Callaghan on her way but first you need to tell me what I need to know. Just tell me your name so that I can help you out here."

"Jules" Wordy said in a low voice so as not to disturb the call. "Footage will be up in about 5...4...3...2...1..."

"Thank you for cooperating,Mickey." He glanced over at Jules expectantly just as the screen filled with the surveillance video and her breath caught in her throat.

Michelle 'Mickey' Holtz. Thirty one. Red chevy malibu. It had been a while.

"Jules?"

"I have to go in there."


	4. Bringing up the past

"You want to tell me what's going on here?"

"I have no idea boss."

She made for the door, racking her brain for a reason for Mickey to be so angry that she would hold hostages in a government building. Many memories came up, few of them good, but she could think of nothing that would apply to the current situation.

"Jules!"

" I gotta go in there." She could hear the desperation and annoyance in her own voice.

"Your not going anywhere until we figure out what the hell is going on here, for all you know she wants you there so she can put a bullet between your eyes." Jules shook her head adamently. "She's an old friend, I need to help her."

She glanced around at the others but by the looks on their faces they were in agreement with their sergeant. She could hear the voices in her ear asking what the plan was.

"She doesn't want to hurt me boss. She never would."

"And how do you know that Jules? When was the last time you saw her?" Sam asked.

"It's been awhile."

_She burst from the water with a shriek of laughter, feeling the sun beating down on her wet hair and skin and she fought her friends attempts to pull her back beneath the surface. Mickey swam circles around them both, laughing too as she watched her brother and her friend struggling to drown each other._

_"Give up Holtz!" Jules cried in victory as Nick's head sunk beneath the water again and she held him there briefly until his arms came around her knees and she fell forward. Cheers and laughter greeted them as they surfaced, to see two of her own brothers rushing for the water in their shorts, taking Nick down harder than she had managed to on her own. Jules leapt at Mickey with an incredible splash, making her friend shriek and take off deeper into the lake._

_They struggled out of the water sometime later, collapsing on their towels in the grass. Jules lay back and selected a round pebble, digging her slingshot out of her bag and taking aim at her brother Derek where he sat at the waters edge.__The rock hit him square in the back of the head, but as usual he ignored her efforts to engage him and didn't so much as run his hands through his hair or rub the spot she had hit. Bored with the lack of reaction she turned back to her friends. Mickey was stretched out on her back with her sunglasses on, soaking up the sun and Nick leaned up against a tree, knife in hand as he cut at a chunk of wood._

_"So, who are you taking to grad?" Mickey asked excitedly, raising herself onto an elbow and facing her friend but Jules could only groan at the reminder. "Can we stop talking about this? What's the big deal anyway?" Two weeks away and she had turned down half a dozen offers for a date that night. Now everyone else already had one and she was on her own._

_"Nick'll take you, won't you Nick?" Mickey asked, glancing over at her older brother._

_"Huh. Oh, ya, clearly i've got nothing else to do if i'm hanging out with you lot. Me and you Jules" he mocked, wagging his eyebrows._

_"Nick!" Mickey protested, giving Jules an apologetic look but Jules only laughed. "Sure, whatever, got no one better to go with."_

_They dug their school books from their bags, trying to convince themselves to do their work with very little success. Jules gnawed on the end of her pencil as she tried to concentrate, her brother's laughter cutting through her thoughts whenever she began to read a question. She glanced over at her friend who seemed to be no farther along than she was._

_"Hey, Mickey, what's with the nasty bruise? Thats a real beauty."_

_Her friends inner thigh was black and blue and Jules could tell that it was a fairly recent injury. She sensed Nick tense nearby but Mickey just laughed and glanced down at the bruise, her cheeks redder than usual._

_"Oh, it's probably from when I was riding the other day. Still trying to get Gypsy to take her bit, and the saddle was digging into me pretty hard."_

_Jules shook her head. "Good luck with that one. That horse is a real monster."_

_Mickey shrugged and turned back to her books. A long moment passes in silence and then Nick hauled himself to his feet._

_"Where are you going?" Jules demanded, shading her eyes with her hand, watching Nick pull his shirt over his head and collect his things._

_"Gotta work" he grunted. Jules noticed a worried look on Mickey's face as they watched him walk away._

_"You okay?" she asked, noting the chill that seemed to have settled over them both even under such heat._

_"Ya, I'm fine. Did you get number eight?"_

_ "So what are your plans for next year?" Jules asked her friend, only mildly interested as they made their way up the dusty trail, kicking up rocks. An old ford truck rumbled by, sending them both into coughing fits, chocking them with the dust. Jules scooped up a large rock and shucked it after the vehicle, hearing the satisfying clunk as rock collided with metal, leaving a nasty dent. She heard the driver swear loudly and knew her dad would have words for her when she got home. She grinned._

_"I don't know" Mickey told her, returning to their conversation. "My dad wants me to stay and help look after the farm you know, but I still want to got to college, maybe travel some."_

_"Ya" Jules agreed. She too knew what she wanted to do, and it definitely didn't involve staying home to feed the horses._

_They reached the gate of Mickey's house. She made to follow her friend but Mickey stopped and held out a hand._

_"You'll want to wait here, he's in a real bad mood today. I'll be right back."_

_Jules shrugged and leaned back against the gate, watching her friend as she made her way up the steps and through the front door. She shook her head to speed the drying process and brushed some dust from her shorts._

_Then she heard her friends scream from inside the house and the next thing she knew she was standing over the very obviously dead father of her two best friends as Mickey sobbed into her shoulder._

" I didn't see her much after that. They arrested a man for the murder, Andrew Fisher, owed a store in town, they'd been fighting cause he thought Mr. Holtz was ripping him off somehow, I was just a kid, never really got the whole story but apparently they had plenty of evidence and the guy had a record as long as his arm. The Holtz farm was sold and their mom moved them away even before school was out, to Ottawa I think. I've seen Mickey maybe a handful of times since then, I think she had a rough time for a while there but I thought she was doing okay, and I still talk to Nick. He joined the army after his dad died, last time I talked to him he had just gotten back from his second stint overseas."

"But you don't know what this could be about?" Ed asked in her ear. She shook her head, then remembered he couldn't hear her.

"I have no clue."

She glanced around at the sympathetic faces, then focused on Wordy.

"Find Nick, get him here. I'm going to talk to Mickey."


	5. The ugly truth

"This is a bad idea Jules" Sam muttered, close behind her. Greg's grant that she should be allowed to talk to Mickey was only open if Sam was with her. She had argued of course, but in the end he had simply asked if she would be capable of pulling the trigger if it was necessary, and her moment of hesitation had answered that question.

She ignored Sam's comment, pushing through into the lobby of the silent building. What must have been bustling hours before was now abandoned, and clearly in a hurry. A half empty coffee mug sat on the reception desk next to a paper with half a sentence written on it. Computers were in various degrees of usage with emails and photos brought up on their screens.

The room that Jules was aiming for was at the end of the hall. In a similar situation she would have been feeling apprehensive and defensive and cold, but all she could seem to muster up was a curiosity. She heard the phone ringing at the target location and she knew that Greg would be telling Mickey that Jules was on her way in, just not alone. She ignored Sam's gesture to stop and check for the all clear and made her way directly to the door instead. She knew she would get chewed out for her actions later, but she didn't care. She also knew that getting in the room could make things a lot easier or a lot harder, and she wouldn't be coming out until some solution had been found, the possibilities of which she refused to think about.

"Mickey" she called gently from outside the door so as not to spook her old friend. "It's Jules."

There was a long pause, the sound of shuffling and footsteps, a woman's quiet sobs and then a familiar voice.

"Jules? Come in."

"I'm bringing someone with me Mickey, but he's not here to hurt you, ok? He's just here to make sure that everything goes alright?"

"umm...Okay"Hesitation.

Stepping forward, she pushed through the door and entered the offices. Chairs had been overturned, paper had been tossed, and something had spilled on the floor. The blinds had been pulled on the large windows, giving the room a gloomy feeling that was not aleviated by the handful of frightened looking people huddled against the wall. Mickey, older, but still much the same stood over the small group, both hands wrapped tightly around a browning HP handgun. Jules took a deep breath and resigned herself to this memory of Mickey, instead of the happy, fluffy childhood memories or the overwhelmed young girl who had just lost her father. Clearly the Mickey that Jules thought she knew was gone.

"If you wanted to talk to me you could have just called" she offered, keeping her voice light and unaffected. Mickey took a step forward and Jules felt Sam tense, noticing the proximity that he was keeping between them. She was glad that the gun was still safely at Mickey's side, as Sam seemed all to eager to end the interaction.

"Jules." Just her name, spoken low in a desperate voice, a cry for help from a friend who was in over her head. From the look on Mickey's face she might have been one of the hostages as opposed to the hostage taker.

"Does your brother know you have his service weapon?" she tried again, and finally Mickey spoke.

"No, this has nothing to do with Nick." She pushed a lock of hair behind one ear, her hands shaking, body twitchy. Jules could hear Greg speaking in her ear, but she wasn't paying attention to the words. She didn't need his help with this one.

"So what _is_ this about?" she asked, watching the other woman's eyes jump around the room, settling on Sam, on the hostages, on Jules' own weapon. She could feel the weight of it in her own hands and as ever she was comforted by the familiar shape and the assurance that she had a way to protect herself and others, the best way she knew how. With a trigger. But the thing about knowing the subject was that you couldn't hide behind a gun and an understanding tone. She had to find a way to use that connection to her advantage.

"This is Sam, Mickey, he's a friend of mine. He served, just like Nick. He wants to help you too..."

But Mickey was shaking her head, not paying attention.

"Were going to figure this out. If you put the gun down, Mickey, then I promise that the two of us can talk."

"It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it wasn't supposed to happen like this." She began to pace. Jules knew what Sam was thinking and she also knew that she had to calm her friend down if she wanted to get her out of there unharmed.

"Nick's on his way here, you know."

Freeze. Mickey turned slowly. "No. You can't bring him here. He just got back...you can't!"

"You have to calm down Mickey, we don't want anyone to get hurt. You asked me to come here, you said you wanted to talk."

She was shaking her head again. "I don't want the cops here. I just want.., Jules, I have too..."

"You have to what?"

"You would do the same thing. He doesn't deserve to live. They let him out Jules, can you believe that?"

"Who?"

"Who do you think?"

And it all came together. She was eighteen again, comforting a friend who's father had just been murdered, sitting in a quiet courtroom as Mickey cried beside her, as Andrew Fisher was convicted of murder, and now he was free, free to do as he pleased when his actions had altered so many lives so badly.

"You came here so you could find out where he was? And then what? Would you kill him Mickey?"

"I don't know."

"Jules, the brother is here" Wordy's voice informed them. "He wants to talk to you. I'm gonna put him on."

"Nick's here Mickey. He's outside waiting."

"You shouldn't have brought him here."

The sound of muffled voices and then a single clear one came over the headset as the rest of the team fell silent, listening in, giving Jules the feeling that her childhood and her current life were colliding, that something that had been boiling up for years was about to rise to the surface.

"J? What the hell's going on? They told me Mickey had a gun?"

"Ya. I'm with her right now. And thats not her gun she's got Nick. You know anything about this?"

"What? No. I have no idea. I want to talk to her."

"I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why, Jules? I want to talk to her!"

Jules looked back to Mickey. Their eyes met and she knew that somehow she was going to get this to work out, she had too.

"She wants to know the whereabouts of Andrew Fisher. I think you know why."

"You can't let her do it Jules, she doesn't need to do this. Shit."His voice was panicked, afraid, she could hear what she was feeling in his tone, but unlike him she couldn't show it.

"Why do you think I'm in here Nick?" she asked, with an edge in her voice that she normally saved for unprofessional encounters. She took a deep breath.

"This is my fault. She shouldn't be doing this" he said. She could picture him slumped in a chair next to Wordy and Greg, his hands running over his close cropped hair, the same hair that used to curl past his ears, that Jules had pulled when she wanted to irritate him. He was sitting in the truck, trying to understand and come to grips with the fact that the only family he had left was about to take herself from him.

"You want to save these people, then get me what I want and let me go, Jules" Mickey demanded, making her way closer to her hostages and gripping tighter to her weapon, her knuckles tight. Sam's gun came up next to Jules' shoulder. His breathing was shallow and she knew that he was fully prepared to take the shot that would save the innocent people who were cowering, defenseless on the floor. It would save them, but it wouldn't save Mickey, or Nick, and it wouldn't save Jules either. Her life was unravelling behind her and she had had enough.

"Do you really think that there is any chance that you get out of here? God, Mickey, are you really that stupid, you think were just going to let you walk out that door ?! Your completely unstable, you have a gun, and your threatening to kill people. You were always over dramatic, but this is a whole knew level that I never thought even you would reach! Your holding a handgun, for fuck sake. How well do you think that'll hold up against this?" she said furiously, thrusting her own weapon out in front of her.

Five voices were screaming in her ear,telling her to shut up. She could sense the shock that had settled over the room and Mickey blinked at her in surprise. She knew it was stupid, she knew that she had abandoned years of training in negotiations and that Greg had been right to question her ability to handle herself where an old friend was involved. She was risking innocent people's lives on the chance that a friendship from years before might still mean something to Mickey, that all her friend needed was a slap in the face. She also knew that Greg was going to kill her. The voices had fallen silent. She could still see the end of Sam's gun from the corner of her eye.

"What the hell are you doing Mickey?" she asked, her voice newly calm, disappointed. She knew that one way or the other, the whole thing would be over in minutes and there was a good chance she was fired. "This isn't the way to do it. These people didn't do anything to anyone. These people are like your father, their innocent, they didn't hurt anyone. Don't take them from their children like that bastard did to you."

"No." Nick's voice sounded again in her ear, full of anger.

"What."

"He wasn't innocent,J, he wasn't a victim, you never knew... you never saw what he... he deserved to die!"

"What are you talking about Nick?" She was shocked, trying to focus on Nick and Mickey at the same time.

But she was remembering again too, that afternoon by the water, all those little things that had seemed so insignificant at the time, the bruise on Mickey's thigh, the tense reaction Nick had had, Nick leaving early for work, Mickey making her wait outside when she went to the house, and other things, on other days...She was feeling nauseous. How could she not have known? She took a step backwards and felt Sam's hand on her back steadying her. She saw the question in his eyes.

"Tell her she doesn't need to do this." Nick was saying. " Tell her that it wasn't Andrew Fisher who killed our dad. Tell her that I did it, that I did it for her."


	6. Reality check

Everything she had ever known, every person she had ever trusted, her entire past was shaken with those three simple words.

"I did it." He had done it for his little sister, just as any of her own brothers would have done for her, and there was nothing she could do about it, nothing she could say or do that could change the past, that warm day when they had had their whole futures ahead of them, when she had really missed every sign that her best friend was going through something horrible, the day when Nick Holtz had murdered his father for a good cause, he gave his sister a future. How do you go through life and then learn something like that, something that was going on while you were complaining about your homework and your boredom and arguing with your own father about curfew and chores?

Then Mickey was handing her the gun and the cold metal chilled her skin as she watched Sam sling his weapon over his shoulder and put handcuffs on her friend.

The next thing she knew she was outside, with the sun doing it's best to beat the ice cold by shining extra bright and blinding them all. She shivered in her thin coat and finally looked up, giving in to Nick's attempts to catch her eye as he too was led away in handcuffs. A soldier, a protecter, a friend, a killer. They had both made choices that had cost them their lives and their futures, but the image of Mickey's father sliding his arm around her shoulders and leading her away was too strong, too clear in her mind, the pain and loss her friend had felt, beyond imagining.

Jules took a step forward, uncertain. She could see her team congregating next to the truck, gathering their gear and packing up. She could see the hostages being looked after by uniforms and medics. Mickey was already gone, led away to some impersonal cell where she would be punished for something that her father had done to her years ago.

She felt a presence at her shoulder but didn't have to look to know who it was.

"That was interesting" Ed said mildly. She turned and saw that he too was watching as Nick was questioned by a detective.

"Anything ever happen to you that made you question everything you ever thought you knew?" she asked, eyeing his steaming Tim Hortons coffee.

Ed snorted. "With this job?"

"Only every day, huh?"

"You too?"

She allowed herself a rye smile.

"I never knew Ed, how is that possible."

"Don't beat yourself up. You were a kid, bastard kept it well hidden."

"She could have told me."

He shrugged. They both knew it was common for victims to keep quiet. No one needed to say it.

"At least somebody knew" he added gently.

"You think what Nick did..?"

"If it was me they would never have found the body."

She shook her head. "He should have done things properly, told someone. He's thrown away his whole life now."

She was offered another shrug. "You weren't the only one who was a kid back then, Jules. Not everything is so black and white, and not everyone thinks like you do. Nick probably saw it as the only way to save his sister, and to him it was worth the risk. He probably never meant to drag you through the mud too."

"Ya, that was fun."

Ed clapped his hand on her shoulder and nodded in Nick's direction. "You should talk to him."

She nodded.

"Nick." She approached him differently then she had ever done, trying to ignore or forget that they were anything more than a cop and a murderer. She could feel dozens of pairs of eyes drilling into the back of her head. He watched her too, his own eyes dark and flat.

"I stand by what I did J, I'd do it again." He followed her every movement, wary, sad.

"Merry Christmas?" he tried again.

"It wasn't just your father's life that you took Nick, it was Andrew Fisher's as well. He was innocent and you took everything from him."

Nick sighed and nodded. "You know I had a huge crush on you that year. You were...you're something special."

"Nick" she said impatiently, earning a small smile.

"I did right by my sister Jules, and I can never be sorry for that."

Jules didn't watch as they loaded him into the police car and drove away. Instead, she made her way slowly back to the team to unload her equipment and make new plans for what was left of her holiday. She knew she was better off just letting go.


End file.
